


Sootasha

by AnonEhouse



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Animal Transformation, Crack Treated Seriously, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha gets by on her wits, with the help of her faithful dog, Steve, but when her Fury Godfather shows up with an offer that's too good to resist, well, she goes for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sootasha

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Nat hated rutabagas. She hated the waxy coating put on to keep the things from decently rotting when they were old, she hated how hard she had to press the knife to get through them, and most of all she hated how cheap they were. If rutabaga cost more then the tightwads she was working for would buy something else for the help to eat. She was going to take great pleasure in robbing them blind.

The turnspit dog keeping the roast intended for the family from burning let out a yelp. "Quiet, Steve," she snapped, pretending she was irritated at him. Steve had been with her for years. He didn't look like much with his long body and short legs, but he was stronger than he looked and sharp-witted. He'd cased out many a job and never played her false. She turned as if to berate the dog, but instead threw her knife at at the tall dark man who'd entered the kitchen silently. The knife thudded into the doorframe beside his head.

He blinked the one eye she could see, and then pulled the knife out easily despite the depth it had sunk into the wood. "You dropped this," he said calmly, holding it out to her, handle first.

Nat frowned. Another reason to hate rutabaga. It blunted knives and threw off their balance. She took the knife quickly and stepped back. The man was dressed all in black leather, including a patch over one eye, which could have been a fashion statement, or it could have been meant for practical considerations such as sneaking around at night. Or hiding blood. "What do you want?" He certainly wasn't a merchant or messenger.

"I want to offer you a better way of life, Nathifa."

"That's nice, but my name isn't Nathifa, you must have the wrong kitchen drudge." Nat resumed chopping rutabaga.

The man sighed. "Natalene, Natalka, Natanja, Nataria, whatever. Every time you change your name, I lose track of you. Finally had to hunt the dog." He nodded at Steve, who stopped turning the wheel to show his teeth.

Nat had a much sharper knife hidden in her apron, but she was reluctant to use it. She'd have to flee before fleecing the family; wasting weeks of rutabaga chopping. "What do you want?" she asked again. It all depended on what he knew, and what she had to do to put him off the scent. No point being hasty.

"I'm your Fury Godfather, and I want to make sure you have a fulfilling life. One that doesn't involve rutabagas."

Nat turned again to face him. "I don't have a Godfather." Maybe he was just a crazy. Crazies she could handle without a knife.

"Not your _Godfather_ , your _Fury_ Godfather. Some people have so much anger inside them it takes on a life of its own."

"So, you're my anger?" Nat looked him up and down. Definitely a crazy. "Funny, I thought you'd be bigger."

The man didn't respond to that. He said, "There are bigger Furies, but they're all insane."

Nat kept her silence, but her expression probably told him what she was thinking.

"Look, it's simple. You tell me what you want, I fix it so you get it, and that way, you don't get any angrier, and I don't go mad."

"Fine. I wish I didn't have to cut up any more rutabaga," Nat said. She figured he'd say 'done, you are released from rutabaga chopping' and then she'd exclaim gratefully, and he'd leave.

She was partly right. He said, "Done!" and lifted his eyepatch. The kitchen lit up, blue-white, and when it faded back to the normal dullness, there was the strong scent of boiling rutabagas. The cutting board was empty, and the pots were full of rutabaga chunks simmering in water.

"Huh." She prodded the nearest rutabaga with a fork. "Thanks. Well, you can go now."

Fury folded his arms against his chest. "That's not enough. You're still poor and pissed off."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Me and most of the country. What do you want to do, marry me off to the Prince?" she asked in mockery.

Fury suddenly grinned. "What an excellent idea! As a Princess you could vent your anger on the peasants!"

Nat opened her mouth to deny any wish to live in a palace, but then she thought again. Living in a palace, no, but thieving from a palace? Yes, definitely yes. Nat took off her apron, and went over to the turnspit, carrying Steve down from the wheel. "I'd have to get to know him, first. I'm not marrying a pig in a poke."

"Prince Tony isn't a pig... well... he's a little bit of a male chauvinist pig, but he's young and impressionable! You could beat it out of him!"

"Maybe he has bad breath." Nat petted Steve. "Maybe he's bald. Maybe he smokes disgusting cigars. Maybe he's boring."

"He gives parties every night. You can meet him and decide for yourself."

Nat nodded. "All right, but Steve has to come with me. To protect my virtue," she lied with a straight face.

"They don't allow dogs in the palace." Fury lifted his eyepatch again. There was another blaze of light. And where there had been a scruffy looking dog, there stood a tall, muscular, handsome man, blond, blue-eyed, and fair-skinned. There was no doubt about the fair skin, as he was totally naked.

"Steve?" Nat asked, cautiously. 

The man looked at her and nodded. "Yes, mistress." He scratched behind his ear. "I feel strange."

"You look great," she replied honestly. She was suddenly glad she'd never had him neutered, but at the same time she felt weird because Steve was her dog. She turned to Fury. "So, before we go any further, what are the rules, the limitations, and the price?"

"No price. I'm doing this for myself. I get you and your protector to the party, and I provide everything you need to make a good impression. Everything else is up to you." Fury did the eyepatch trick again and Nat and Steve were both dressed, her like royalty in black lace over satin, him in an elegant dark blue guard's uniform trimmed with silver. They'd been bathed and primped and even scented. Steve sneezed.

"No time limit?" Nat asked, suspiciously, while patting down her dress to decide where she could hide weapons and loot. "We don't have to race out at midnight before everything vanishes?"

"I ain't no cut-rate Fury. You get to keep everything I give you." Fury looked at Steve. "I can get you another dog, if you want, but this one's stayin' the way he is."

"I've got no hackles to raise when I'm angry, and no tail to wag when I'm happy," Steve complained. "And how fast can I run on two feet?" Then he looked at the turnspit wheel. "I can't fit in the wheel. I can't do my job."

Nat patted him on the arm. "Your job is to protect me."

"My jaw's too flat, I can't bite anyone," Steve said sadly.

"You'll figure something out," Fury said. He put his hand to his eyepatch again.

"Wait!" Nat shouted, but it was too late. There was a blaze of light and they were standing on the marble steps of Stark palace, next to a fancy carriage. "Well, fine," she said, in annoyance, but when she took a step, she felt the comforting weight of her favorite knife, and a little experimentation showed that the gown had any number of pockets hidden in its folds. She lifted her chin and headed for the entrance, with Steve a pace behind and to the left, like the well trained dog he was.

She wasn't surprised when the doorman waved them in without asking to see their invitations. Fury had promised he'd get them to the party. She looked around as they entered. Evidence of wealth, not necessarily good taste, was everywhere. In particular, there was a lot of gilt and garnets. Some of it was probably gold and rubies, but Nat hadn't enough time to examine things in detail, and there wasn't any point to it. She wanted portable valuables, not full size mirrors, glittering chandeliers, or ewers the size of small sheep. Jewelry would be the best. She circulated, chatting gaily with notables, with Steve following loyally behind. Her hands itched to relieve them of some fripperies, but there were too many eyes. In particular, she felt the burn of being watched by one of the palace guards. It was annoying to be surrounded by so much wealth, but unable to collect any for herself.

And worst of all, she seemed to have caught the Prince's eye. No one could miss his outrageously flashy red velvet and gold brocade garments, and even if he'd been dressed like a scullion, the horde of apple-polishers and boot-lickers surrounding him would tell you this was a man who needed no introduction. Nat would admit he wasn't ugly, but his facial hair was just absurd. The crowd slowed his progress, but she could see he was aiming in her direction. Maybe Fury had lied about leaving things up to her, and his magic was drawing the Prince to her. To her... or to them? Steve was covered by the same spell, wasn't he?

"Steve," she whispered quietly, as he filled a plate for her with selected delicacies from one of the many sideboards overflowing with every food known, except rutabagas. 

"Yes, mistress?" he inquired, nostrils flared slightly as he sniffed out the freshest slices of roast hummingbird, or whatever it was. 

"I need you to create a distraction." This was an old game they'd played. "Distract the Prince."

Steve perked up. "Yes, mistress!" He turned and vanished into the crowd before she could explain _how_ he was to distract the Prince. As a dog, he'd only had two methods. Either he'd pee on someone or snatch their food and while they were chasing him, Nat could quietly pick through their abandoned possessions.

But those victims hadn't been surrounded by armed guards. They'd kill Steve. She pulled her knife out of concealment. A strong hand clamped down on her wrist. "We don't want to make a scene," the guard holding her said. He smiled, and she recognized the smile. It was the one she used when she was trying to decide whether seduction or assassination would be more profitable. His eyes were a cool gray-blue, changeable and sharp.

"Unhand me, lout," she said, quietly, but with deadly intent.

"Oh, no, I don't think so." He grinned at her, and she felt the prick of a sharp blade against her ribs. "Let's take this dance onto the floor."

"The Prince..." Nat said, then suddenly twisted and was surprised that the guard gave way rather than cut her. She'd been prepared to foul the blade with her gown and accept a wound as the price for freedom. She swept away from him, sliding through the crowd with skills learned in many a crowded pub. The money didn't matter; she had to get to Steve.

"Steve!" she cried out, when she was close to the knot of people around the Prince, and saw Steve's tousle of bright hair above the rest. 

"Yes, mistress?" Steve replied.

"Thank goodness," she said, using winsome smiles and wide, innocent eyes to clear a path through to him. Steve was standing next to the Prince. There were pastry crumbs on the Prince's beard and brocade jacket, and more pastry crumbs on Steve's mouth and chin. The Prince was grinning like an idiot. 

"Don't you feed your man?" he asked her, waving at Steve. "He bit that meat pie right out of my mouth!" His hand landed on Steve's biceps and his eyes widened. "Wow, whatever you're feeding him, keep up the good work." He patted Steve's arm.

"I like you," Steve said. "You smell good. I'd like to lick you." He grinned back at the Prince and... Nat had to close her eyes as Steve did his best to wag the tail he didn't have. His trousers wagged, too. Steve never was shy about his love life. There were plenty of scruffy puppies around to prove it.

The Prince's eyes widened even further. He glanced at Nat. Nat shrugged. Steve was old enough to make his own mistakes. The Prince's guards either looked aside, or grimaced, but none of them seemed the slightest surprised. "Well," said the Prince, "this party is rather boring. I think I'll call it a night." He patted Steve's arm again. "Why don't you come with me and help me get the crumbs out of my beard?"

Steve didn't even glance at Nat for permission before he settled into step just behind the Prince. The Prince's guards followed at a discreet distance.

"Great," Nat's former captor said, having caught up to her in the confusion. "This is perfect. No one's guarding the treasury." He indicated a side door with a lift of his chin. "How much can you hide in that dress?"

Nat looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

He grinned. "I've got eyes, lady. My name's Clint, but they call me Hawkeye. C'mon, let's be partners. I did all the legwork, so 80/20 split seems fair."

"Now, you're underestimating your worth," Nat replied as she picked up her skirts and headed for the armory door. "I'd give you at least 30 percent."

He laughed and put his arm through hers, for all the world like a gallant escorting his lady. "We'll discuss it later, over dinner."

Nat smiled. "My name's Natasha, but they call me the Black Widow." 

"So, do you plan on eating me?" Clint said as she spread her skirts to hide him picking the lock of the door. He looked up at her, totally without fear, and she felt something very like affection stir in her heart. 

"Maybe." 

"Alll right. It's my lucky day." The door popped open and they went in, side by side.

 

Six months later, Prince Tony created the automatic roast turner, and declared all turnspit dogs wards of the state. His husband, Steve, designed the kennels.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this Avengerkink [prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/13316.html?thread=32289540#t32289540)


End file.
